


The cost of a trip to Waikiki

by Wasted_Shadows



Category: Hotel Artemis (2018)
Genre: Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Mid-Canon, Smut, Waipulco
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-11
Updated: 2019-04-11
Packaged: 2020-01-11 20:21:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18431399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wasted_Shadows/pseuds/Wasted_Shadows
Summary: AU where Acapulco goes to find his wallet, but Waikiki won't let him have it without paying a price.A fic for Wolf (@cumtogether)





	The cost of a trip to Waikiki

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cumtogether](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cumtogether/gifts).



“Look” Acapulco threw his hands in the air, hoping to avoid any conflict as the French assassin strutted towards him. “I don’t want any trouble”

“Is your helicopter early?”

“How’d you know about that?” He glared at her, confused.

“You’re American, you speak too loudly.” Before Acapulco could reply she interrupted him. “Sherman says that if you want your wallet back, you meet him in the bar.”

Acapulco lowered his eyebrows for a second, trying to process her words. Her accent confused him. “Who’s Sherm-” He realised what she had meant, and his face turned to shock as his instantly clasped both hands to his chest to check his jacket pocket. Where his wallet normally sat tucked away, was now just empty fabric. “You crazy piece of shit.” He screamed at Nice, taking a shaky, anger-filled step towards her.

“I did not take it.” She replied honestly, in a voice smooth as honey but still as secretive and superior.

“Yeah, shut the fuck up.” Acapulco hissed. “Where is it?”

“I told you.” She didn’t even flinch. “Sherman has it in the bar. You should go find him.”

“If you’re lying, I will fucking kill you.” He yelled, thrusting a hand in his bag and clasping his fist around his 3d printed gun. Nice watched him, retaining all composure in her face as the smaller man threw his bag on the floor and stormed back down the stairs from the roof into the games room.

Mumbling curses under his breath, Acapulco stomped out of the games room and into the corridor. He skirted through the lobby, allowing his anger to drown out the threats thrown at him by Crosby and the mob, and he pressed on towards the bar where he found the door slightly ajar. Cocking his gun, he held his armed hand out in front of him and kicked the door open. Shooting blind, he let a single shot blast from his gun and with a scream he was in the room. The bullet flitted past the bar and into the back wall.

“Hey.” Waikiki complained as Acapulco entered. “I just want to give you your wallet back.”

“You fucking cunt.” Acapulco screamed, eyes locking on the bank robber, preparing to fire another shot. But the way Waikiki looked caught him off guard. During their encounter earlier that night, Waikiki had been wearing a smart, but bullet ridden grey suite. Now all he wore was the subtly striped silk bathrobe provided by the hotel. Acapulco stopped in his tracks and raised an eyebrow. “What the fuck is all of this?”

“I told you.” Waikiki replied, eying his gun in hopes that he would lower it. “I’m just here to give you your wallet back.”

“Then why the fuck are you dressed like that?”

“Oh…” Waikiki smirked. “You didn’t think I’d give you it back without a price, did you?”

The mention of a price suddenly struck something in the shorter man’s core. He felt a shiver of adrenaline course through his body, but he didn’t let Waikiki know. Acapulco maintained his superiority act as a defence mechanism and took a step towards the bar stools.  

“Just give me my fucking wallet back,” He screamed, “Or I will fucking shoot you.”

In response, Waikiki stood. The silk robe draped down his sides, showing his bare legs and revealing his vulnerable chest.

Acapulco swallowed nervously, feeling himself become aroused. His arm, now shaking, began to lower. “What the fuck do you want with me?”

Waikiki’s gaze lowered, fixing on the printed gun. “I want you to put that down, and then take off your ‘Gooch’ so I don’t upset you again by touching it.”

“And what if I don’t?” Acapulco protested sarcastically.

“Then you don’t get your wallet back.” Waikiki took a step towards the arms dealer, knowing that he could shoot at any moment.

“I could shoot you. I could fucking shoot you and take my wallet back myself!” He yelled, holding out his gun arm again. “You think you’re all high and mighty luring me here but you’re just a piece of shit like the rest of them.” His hair bounced a little as he shouted, his rage coming through once more. “Give me back my fucking wallet right now or I will fucking shoot you.”

“Ahhh…” Waikiki commented. “I don’t think you will.”

“Don’t fucking test me.” Acapulco screamed, preparing to pull the trigger. But before he had a chance, Waikiki leapt at him, pulling the gun from his hand and turning the little man away from him. He pressed his barely clothed body to Acapulco’s back whilst holding a hand around his throat.

“Now,” He purred in his ear, throwing the printed gun away and curling his now free hand around Acapulco’s body, resting it on his crotch. “You’re a goddamn bitch, but I know a little man like you can take me.” He squeezed both hands a little, just enough to get Acapulco hard. The arms dealer chocked, determined not to admit how much he wanted this.

“Get your fucking hands off me.” He chocked but did nothing to stop Waikiki from caressing the front of his designer trousers. “Or I’ll…” He paused, knowing he was defenceless and out of threats. “I’ll…”

“You’ll what?”

Acapulco sighed, defeated. “You know what, fine. Take my fucking clothes off.”

“Good boy.” Waikiki kissed his ear and with the hand from around Acapulco’s throat began to undo the few remaining buttons on the arms dealer’s shirt. Softly, Waikiki peeled both the Gucci jacket and shirt from his body and placed them delicately on a bar stool, before returning his hand to his throat. Acapulco stood, rolling his eyes a little as he anticipated the next for moments. Waikiki stopped caressing his trousers for just long enough to unzip them and slip his hand inside. There he found silk underwear which he had no difficulty sliding inside, taking the arms dealer’s warm, short, fat cock in his hand.

Acapulco gasped as Waikiki’s cold fingers gently squeezed and began stroking. He almost felt his legs give way beneath him, but the support from the bank robber’s body pressed into his back kept him on his feet.

“You know you don’t deserve this.” Waikiki taunted, taking a second away from stroking his cock to pull his trousers and boxers down to the arms dealer’s expensive Chelsea boots.  

“Oh, I fucking know.” Acapulco moaned smugly as Waikiki’s hand returned around him. He pressed himself further into Waikiki’s body, feeling the bank robber’s penis press into his back through the thin veil of the bathrobe.

“Assholes like you shouldn’t be in places like this. Yeah this is a hospital for criminals, but you’re something much, much worse.”

“And what is that?” Acapulco breathed, as Waikiki’s fingers released from his throat.

“You’re a bastard.” Waikiki taunted, pulling Acapulco around and leaning him over the bar. Without letting go of his cock, Waikiki tugged at the cord of his bathrobe, exposing his own body to the dimly lit, decaying interior of the bar.  

“Please,” Acapulco moaned, “Just fuck me already.”

“But where would the fun be in that man?” Waikiki teased, stroking Acapulco’s cock harder than before. The arms dealer let out a loud moan, which no doubt could be heard by the angry mob outside. “You’re just a goddamn slut, aren’t you?”

“Mmmmmmm… and I just thought you wanted a cup of hot coffee.”

Waikiki grinned. “I’ve had my coffee, and now I have you.” With that he positioned himself, swiftly coated his dick with lube that he had stashed in his pocket and slid inside the arms dealer.

Acapulco let out another loud moan, and Waikiki groaned “Fuck.”

The two rested against the bar for a second, adjusting to each other, before Waikiki began thrusting. He thrust hard and deep, whilst keeping a hand on Acapulco’s cock. The two of them moaned. A mingle of deep and high voices, moaning with each thrust.

Waikiki pressed Acapulco into the bar for what felt like a lifetime for the arms dealer, but soon enough he was being pulled away from the cold, hard surface. Taking a moment to regain his balance, Waikiki dragged Acapulco across the room and threw him face first onto a dust sheet covered chair. Dust flew up, filling Acapulco’s eyes and nose, causing him to splutter as Waikiki entered him again.

“Hey what the fuck pal?” Acapulco coughed, feeling a moan brew up inside of him as the bank robber thrust into him harder. When Waikiki didn’t respond, Acapulco complained again. “Why’d you have to go fuck that up? I was perfectly fine over there, now I can’t fucking-.”

Before Acapulco could breathe the last of his sentence, Waikiki pressed his face into the chair, muffling him as he continued to fuck. “Let me do the talking.” He moaned, thrusting again, feeling himself get close. Waikiki’s firm grip held Acapulco’s face in place; his mouth was pressed into the fabric, softening his moans, whilst his nose and eyes looked over the back of the chair. With each thrust he felt himself getting closer until eventually Waikiki thrust so perfectly, he began to see stars. He screamed with pleasure into the chair, but the bank robber showed no sign of stopping. With each penetration Acapulco felt himself cum more, leaving the chair and himself wet through.

Eventually, Waikiki came close and thrust once more into the arms dealer. Acapulco released an overstimulated scream, whilst Waikiki grunted in satisfaction as he filled him up from behind. He stood for a moment, letting himself breathe before pulling out. Waikiki’s cum trickled out of Acapulco’s body as the bank robber pulled his hair, lifting him to his feet. Through weary vision Acapulco stood on shaky legs and was finally allowed to turn to face Waikiki, who was already retying his bathrobe and walking across the room towards the bar.  

 “Here.” Waikiki picked up Acapulco’s Louis Vuitton wallet, which had been sat on the bar the entire time and threw it at the naked arms dealer. It bounced off his chest and plopped into Acapulco’s open palms.  

Acapulco looked down, trying to process what he held whilst his vision became less blurry. “Thanks?”

“You should be on your way now.” Waikiki suggested, throwing his Gucci jacket at him before turning to leave. “See you around.” Acapulco blinked once as he watched Waikiki exit, before pulling up his trousers and slipping on his shirt and jacket. Placing his wallet safely back into his jacket pocket, he scrambled for his gun and hastily made his way back into the hallway. Again, he passed the angry mob, too fuzzy-headed to acknowledge their shouts, and clambered up to the roof where Nice was waiting patiently with a cigarette in her mouth.

“Did you get what you wanted?” She asked him.

“Yeah. Kind of.” Acapulco snapped defensively as his phone buzzed in his bag.

Seconds later a bright light appeared in the sky and an automated voice spoke from his phone. “Your pick up has arrived.”

He waited a moment as the helicopter positioned itself over the Artemis, all the while Nice watching intently, until finally, it was time for the arms dealer to leave. The helicopter let down a rope ladder onto which Acapulco hopped, before being carried off into the Los Angeles night.

The helicopter crew helped draw in the arms dealer, who once safely aboard looked back to see a bright ball of flames erupt from the roof of the hotel. He didn’t even flinch as the neon hotel sign died, becoming a blackened shape against the city skyline. From the safety of his helicopter, Acapulco could finally relax and think about the events of the last half an hour. Reaching into his jacket pocket, he pulled out his wallet to check the contents. His bank card and drivers’ licence were accounted for, but his printer card was no where to be found. “Fucking bastard.” He cursed under his breathe, knowing it would be expensive to replace.

With that he opened the main pocket of his wallet to find all his cash gone; replaced by a single note that read “Thanks for the tip sweetheart.”

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”


End file.
